I was going to say that my life has been like a MMA fight (Mixed Martial Arts for those of you without boys). After some pondering, however, I’ve decided that it has more accurately resembled a boxing match.
Why? Well, MMA generally goes three rounds. Boxing–about ten rounds.
You know, my childhood (everyone’s childhood, really) was my training for adulthood. I experienced disappointments, hurts, loss–all the things every child goes through. I was like most children. I couldn’t wait to grow up. I wanted to get married. I wanted babies. I wanted “freedom”.
At eighteen, my parents moved halfway across the country. I had my training–I was ready for adulthood–
Ding! Ding! Ding! Round One began.
I came out fighting, full of energy, ready to go.
BAM! Finances punched me in the face.
WHACK! Roommate conflict socked me in the ribs.
POW! (this is starting to remind me of an old Batman and Robin episode) Boyfriend problems.
I couldn’t wait for round one to end. When the bell finally rang, I went back to my corner a little bloody and bruised. But, eventually, life got back on track. I married my sweetheart ❤ and life was going to be easier.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Round Two.
I took an upper cut to the jaw–Marriage. It wasn’t what I thought is was going to be. It was hard work. There were lots of tears and yelling…and silent (treatment) days. We loved each other, but, Wow!
The bell rang once again and I shuffled back to the corner, my head spinning. There was more blood and I think I had a fat lip. But, I was determined. Time to refocus.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Round three.
WHAM! Babies came…along with miscarriage…and with them came postpartum with a vengeance. Tears. Anxiety. Anger. Fear. This time I went down–1…2…3…4… my vision was blurred, but I pulled myself up to my knees and managed to stand.
After a few more jabs which left my ears ringing (sickness, no sleep, money troubles), I heard the bell and staggered to the corner. I was tempted to throw in the towel. But, those three guys of mine–they needed me to fight.
Ding! Ding! Ding! Round four.
By now I could barely feel the mat below me. Sound was muffled. I was hardly aware of what was taking place when I was sucker punched with panic attacks. I thought for sure that was going to be the KO (knock out). No way was I getting up from this. The room was spinning. The noise was deafening. My heart was racing and at the same time it threatened to stop altogether. I tried to reach for help, but my arms wouldn’t move.
Just then as my opponent started to come down toward me, the referee stepped in and called the fight. He told my opposition to back off and leave me alone. The fight was over. He reached down and asked me if I was okay. He helped me up and took me back to the corner. He told me I had fought a good fight, but my time as a career fighter was over.
My referee was God. And He told me I would no longer fight my battles alone. I wasn’t made to be a fighter. I was made to be His child. I wasn’t made to fight my own battles. I was made to give them to Him for Him to fight for me.
It’s not that I never hear the bells at the beginning of another round. But, when I do, I say, “Hey God, You’ve got this fight! I’ll be on the other side of the ropes cheering You on. I’m Your biggest fan, God. I can’t wait for you to knock this enemy out.”
*****After years of anxiety, depression, OCD, anger and fear, I finally found healing two years ago. I want to encourage everyone of you who struggle with these issues. Please do not suffer alone in the prison of emotional and mental illnesses.
Seek the help of a physician.
Read the Bible.
Think positive thoughts.
Meditate on Scripture.
Surround yourself with positive and encouraging people.
Thank you for the use of this picture, Morgan Nicole. ❤